


Heaven and Hell

by FagurFiskur



Series: 30 day cheesy tropes challenge [19]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, M/M, Prostitution (mentioned), Rivalry, Stripper Castiel, Stripper Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:20:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1476154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"New kid, goes by the name Castiel. Blue eyes, crazy sex hair, thighs that could crush a baby's skull."</p><p>Dean frowns. "Ugh."</p><p>"What?" Ruby asks defensively. "I don't mean, like, an alive baby or anything."</p><p>"We're not getting into this discussion again," Dean warns her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven and Hell

**Author's Note:**

> 30 day cheesy trope challenge: #14 - Stripper AU
> 
> [The challenge](http://ghiraher.tumblr.com/post/37135733342/30-day-cheesy-tropes-challenge)
> 
> [References](http://poledancedictionary.com/moves/)
> 
> Fair warning: I know nothing about strippers.

When people ask Dean what he does for a living, he never shies away from answering. Maybe he should, sometimes - Jess' grandparents, for one, could probably have done without knowing - but he doesn't ever want to feel like he's hiding it. He isn't ashamed of being a stripper.

If anything, he's proud. He is, after all, the most requested dancer at Heaven & Hell - for three months and counting now.

"Actually, three months looks to be it."

Dean glares at Ruby, who is busily applying glitter to her chest. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Means you're not the most requested anymore." Ruby grins at him and puts away the glitter brush. "You've been replaced."

"By who?"

"New kid, goes by the name Castiel. Blue eyes, crazy sex hair, thighs that could crush a baby's skull."

Dean frowns. "Ugh."

"What?" Ruby asks defensively. "I don't mean, like, an alive baby or anything."

"We're not getting into this discussion again," Dean warns her.

"Whatever," Ruby sighs. She adjusts the straps on her top. "How do I look?"

"Like a cheap hooker."

Ruby smacks his shoulder. "You're an asshole."

"You love me," Dean says.

"You wish, honey." Ruby pinches Dean's cheek, smirking when he bats her hand away. "By the way, Castiel is up to dance before me."

"Seriously?"

Ruby nods. "He's probably getting on stage in a minute. Now stop bothering me and go check out the competition."

She's definitely mocking him but Dean is going to follow her advice anyway. He takes his number one spot very seriously.

Heaven & Hell is crowded as usual for a Friday night. Dean spots a few familiar faces, and takes care not to let any of them see him. He likes dancing for these people, likes talking with most of them, but he's on a mission and he will not be sidetracked.

He's no sooner found himself a nice, secluded spot in the shadows than the music starts and the next dancer strolls out. Dean can't see his eyes from where he's standing but he does have crazy sex hair and powerful-looking thighs. It must be Castiel.

The track playing is something kind of mystic-sounding, heavy on the drums. Not something Dean would personally pick, but good enough to dance to. Castiel grabs the pole, swings around it with the ease of someone who's been doing this for years and jumps straight into a Brass Bridge. The crowd cheers.

Dean hates this guy.

\---

All hope Dean has for Castiel's popularity being a new-meat thing evaporates somewhere around Castiel's fourth month at Heaven & Hell. Not only does Castiel remain the most requested, he's more popular than Dean was at his best.

Dean doesn't get it. Sure, the guy is handsome and a good dancer, but he's a charisma black hole. He doesn't get any jokes, he never smiles, always just looking serious and vaguely confused, and he never socialized with the other strippers.

Well, except Meg. They're kind of friends, weirdly enough. She calls him Clarence, presumably out of fondness. And he sometimes hangs out with Anna between shows. He and Gabriel have gone out for drinks a couple of times.

Okay, so it's just Dean he doesn't socialize with. Not that Dean cares. Like, at all. Why should he? He hates Castiel, so it's only natural that Castiel feel the same about him.

\---

"I saw your set last night."

Dean freezes, right in the middle of pulling his cowboy boots on. He knows that voice. He just can't believe it's addressing him.

But as he looks up, he sees Castiel staring straight at him. It's the first time he's really looked Castiel in the eye and for one second, Dean's heart stops beating. He hadn't realized just how incredibly blue his eyes were.

"It was good," Castiel says.

Dean finishes pulling on his boot and straightens. He feels like his world has been flipped around. Could it be that Castiel really isn't as bad a guy as he's been imagining? "Uh, thanks."

"Although your Half Chopper could use some work," Castiel adds. "And your Flying Cupid was downright sloppy."

Never mind, Castiel is an asshole. "Oh, yeah?"

Castiel nods seriously. "But I wouldn't say your form is your biggest issue. That would be the way you interact with your audience."

Dean really can't believe the audacity. Castiel hasn't been at Heaven & Hell half as long as Dean. Where does the little shit get off, lecturing him? "What the hell is wrong with the way I interact with my audience?"

"You make yourself too readily available. There is no mystery, no intrigue."

And then he's gone, leaving Dean fuming.

It isn't until Dean is about to go on stage that something occurs to him.

"Did that asshole call me easy?"

\---

As much as Dean loves his job, there are parts of it he could do without.

Like Alastair.

Alastair has been around since Dean first started working at Heaven & Hell, and he took immediate and creepy attention in Dean. He's never done anything strictly against the rules - he's never touched Dean, never touched himself inappropriately in front of him, never asked him to do anything sexual - so Dean hasn't reported him to Gabriel yet.

It's just... the way he _looks_ at Dean makes his skin crawl. He feels naked around Alastair and not in the fun way. It's like everything he is gets stripped away and all that's left is the scared, inexperienced teenager he used to be, who would let guys feel him up at gas station bathrooms for a quick buck.

But Dean is a damn professional, so when Alastair requests a private dance in the backroom, he doesn't tell him to go screw himself. The private sessions are his main source of income, after all. He cannot afford to start turning away clients.

He gives Alastair his paid-for hour and not a second more. He dances, he makes eyes, but he doesn't go near Alastair. Alastair doesn't seem to care - about any of it, really, he just leans back in his chair, a small smirk on his lips.

Dean goes back to the dressing room a few hundred bucks richer and ready to call it a night. He kicks off his boots and starts removing his vest. All he wants is to jump in the shower and then sleep for days

"Dean? Are you all right?"

Dean groans. Just what he needs, his greatest enemy sticking his nose in his business. "I'm fine, okay? Just tired."

"There's no need to get defensive," Castiel grumbles. He's already dressed to go home, wearing a tan trench coat that kind of makes him look like a flasher. "I wasn't accusing you of anything."

"That would be a first."

"Pardon?"

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about," Dean snipes. "You've talked to me once since you got here, and that was to criticize my form."

Castiel frowns. "I merely wanted to help you improve-"

"Well, I don't need your help," Dean cuts in. "I've been doing this for years, okay? I don't need some greenhorn telling me what to do."

"Perhaps this is why your form is still so sloppy after years of practice. Because you refuse to accept any advice."

For one moment, Dean swears he sees red. The exhaustion and distress seep from his body, replaced with fiery anger. He clenches his fist, wanting to punch Castiel right in his smug face. He can't remember why that would be a bad idea.

Castiel regards him calmly. "I have to wonder how you've managed to keep your job here if this is the way you react to criticism."

That is _it_.

Dean launches himself at Castiel.

\---

"That is... not how I expected this to go."

Dean's voice is quiet, hoarse, and from the corner of his eye, he can see Cas turn his head to look at him.

They're on the floor in the changing room, which is thankfully carpeted. Dean has aches in places he hadn't even known existed. He's pretty sure he's got rugburn on his forehead, not to mention on his knees, but he doesn't even care. His entire body feels like a big, limp noodle.

"I agree," Cas says. "I did not expect you to be quite so eager to bottom."

Dean scoffs. "Shut your face. You loved it."

"I did."

Dean turns to face Cas, who is grinning slyly at him. "You're still an asshole."

"Maybe." Cas' grin softened. "But I made you feel better."

Dean can feel himself blushing and he looks away from Cas and his smug, beautiful face and his stupidly blue eyes. He can admit, even if it's just in the privacy of his own head, that Cas is right. He _does_ feel better.

But he can't say that out loud. Instead, he quietly takes Cas' hand and squeezes it once.


End file.
